


Tyler Has Two Daddies

by springsnow



Series: b i g s t r o n g f a m i l y [8]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Angst, Bathing/Washing, Cuddling & Snuggling, Family Dynamics, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, M/M, Non-Sexual Age Play, Pizza, Stuffed Toys, Walks In The Park
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 08:40:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20636303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springsnow/pseuds/springsnow
Summary: There's some big changes after Takeover: Cardiff - and some little ones, as well.





	Tyler Has Two Daddies

**Author's Note:**

> I'm currently unemployed and living with my parents (as if that's a surprise). I am looking for work, but until the agency finds me something, I have an awful lot of free time on my hands. You know that meme of Spider-Man telling a villain "With tech like that, you could cure cancer!" and the villain responding "But I don't _want_ to cure cancer. I want to turn people into dinosaurs." That's me, but replace 'tech' with 'free time', 'cure cancer' with 'write', and 'turn people into dinosaurs' with 'rewatch _Hello Wembley_ for the fourth time in a row while playing _Skyrim_', and that's been me this week. Anyway, this is here now. I was at Takeover, and mother of god, Pete and Trent walking out to help Tyler after he lost to WALTER got me feeling things. I will admit I'm not wild about the title of this one, but I really couldn't think of anything better. The basic premise here is that the stress of the match made Tyler regress a lot younger than normal (he's usually about seven, but here, he's about four). Also some Pete/Tyler at the end. I have absolutely no idea whether or not there are showers at Motorpoint, but the way I see it, if the community centre in rural Wales I stayed in while I was on an archaeological dig had showers, a decent-sized arena in the capital should have them too. I used to live in Cardiff and I do know the city centre pretty well; Bute Park is next to the castle, and there are (uniquely for a large British city) a number of Victorian arcades dotted around, as well as several bakeries. No idea if any of them serve vegan options, but assume that they do. Enjoy.

Trent and Pete had been bracing themselves for the worst. A tantrum, fits of tears, hell, even a full-on meltdown—but Tyler had been strangely quiet backstage. Almost silent, in fact. They waited patiently while he showered and changed back into street clothes, Trent fiddling with his phone and Pete chewing on a thumbnail, until he emerged, hair still damp and his gear tucked safely away in his bag.

“How you feeling, bab?” Trent asked gently, taking his bag for him. Tyler shrugged.

“Tired,” he mumbled.

“I bet. Let’s get you back to the hotel, hm?”

Wordlessly, Tyler slipped his hand into Pete’s and allowed himself to be led out to the car. Pete could tell he was trying to fight off his headspace, at least until they were safely in the car and away from prying eyes.

“You did so well out there,” he said, gently rubbing Tyler’s hand with his thumb. “We’re both so proud of you.”

Tyler mumbled and looked away. Pete sighed. Alright, maybe that wasn’t the best strategy.

They had brought Matty with them, and to their relief, Tyler’s face lit up a little when he climbed in and saw him. He immediately picked the stuffed monkey up and held it tightly to his chest. It wasn’t too far back to the hotel; they could probably have walked, but not tonight. Tyler was sore and tired and slipping in and out of headspace, and the last thing he needed was drunk fans haranguing him through Cardiff city centre.

“I’ll run you a bath when we get back,” Trent said over his shoulder, swearing under his breath as some lunatic hurtled past them out of the shopping centre car park, going at least twice the speed limit. “And we can order some food. How does that sound?”

Tyler made a non-committal noise that could have been ‘OK’.

“Do you want to talk about the match?” Pete asked hesitantly.

“Nuh uh.”

“OK. But when you do—”

“Don’t wanna!”

Without warning, Tyler kicked the back of Pete’s seat—hard. The blow knocked Pete forward, driving all the air out of his lungs.

“Tyler!” Trent barked. “You apologise right now! What’s gotten into—?”

“Don’t shout at him,” Pete said, readjusting himself. In the back seat, Tyler had buried his face in Matty’s soft fur and was sniffling. Trent sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair.

“You’re right. I’m sorry, pup. I shouldn’t have shouted. But I still think you owe Pete an apology.”

It took a few seconds, but from the back seat, Pete heard Tyler say, in a very small voice: “Sorry, papa.”

Pete’s breath caught in his throat. He threw a look at Trent, and Trent threw it back. _Papa_? That was new. To little Tyler, Pete had always just been…well, Pete. Trent cleared his throat softly and turned his full attention back to the road as the light flicked back to green. Pete could already hear his brain working overtime. Tyler had fallen silent again, playing with one of Matty’s ears.

They pulled up in the hotel car park and piled out, Tyler once again taking Pete’s hand. Pete wasn’t too worried about anyone seeing them—everyone else was either celebrating, drowning their sorrows, or had long since retreated to their rooms to lick their wounds. The only people in the lobby were the clerk and a lone cleaning lady. Neither of them gave them, or Matty, a second look.

==

“Hey, Tyler. How’re you doing?”

The voice caught all three of them off guard. Trent made a soft noise of surprise, and Pete’s heart jumped into his throat.

“Toni!” Trent said a little too loudly, smiling a little too much. He tried his best to discreetly shepherd Tyler behind his back. “Didn’t think you’d be here!”

“I’m OK,” Tyler said quietly, and then, after a pause: “Are you?”

Toni took a deep, shuddering breath and tried to smile, without noticeable success. “I will be,” she said. Her eyes drifted down to Tyler’s hand—the one that was clutching Matty. “Is that yours?”

Pete’s blood turned to ice in his veins. His mind, normally fairly sharp, suddenly seemed to be made of syrup as he tried desperately to think of a story, an excuse, _anything_ that would seem convincing, even telling her the truth because who the hell would believe her—

“We found it in the lift,” Trent supplied, his composure fully restored and his voice and manner once again, as usual, smooth as silk. “We thought we should pick it up so we could take it to the front desk tomorrow. Can’t have some poor tyke getting upset about losing their monkey.”

Toni smiled, and it was a little more genuine this time. “I’m just gonna head down to the bar for a drink. Wanna come?”

“I think we all need to get to bed,” Trent replied chummily. “And if you don’t mind me saying, I imagine you do too. You’ve had a rough night.”

Toni sighed and rubbed her face. “You’re right. Tell you what, one drink and then straight to bed. Alright, dad?”

Pete was sweating. How the hell did Trent always manage to keep his cool so well? It was unnatural.

“Alright,” Trent laughed. “Good night, Toni.”

“Night, guys,” Toni said, stepping into the lift. The doors slid shut, and Pete let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“Room,” he said. “Now.”

==

Tyler hummed softly to himself around the thumb that was tucked in his mouth as he worked methodically on a picture of a dinosaur. His crayons were spread next to him on the desk, and his feet were gently drumming out a pattern on the floor. Trent was in the en-suite, running his bath, and Pete was lying on the bed, ostensibly looking at his phone, really keeping an eye on Tyler. He had managed to get enough out of him to know what he wanted from the pizza place, and now the food was on the way, Pete’s mind was wandering.

The papa thing was worrying him more than it should have been. No, no, not worrying—that was the wrong word. Preoccupying? Yes, that was it. He had never really thought to ask Tyler whether he wanted big Pete to just be a weird sort of…nanny, for want of a better word, or if he wanted a second dad. He was more than happy to be papa. He had just never thought that Tyler would _want_ him to be papa.

“How you doing over there, Ty?” he asked, trying to sound casual. Tyler took his thumb out of his mouth.

“Fine,” he said, before stuffing his thumb back in his mouth.

“You want a drink?”

Thumb out. “Yes please.” Thumb back in.

That was the other thing. It wasn’t like little Tyler never sucked his thumb, but it was rare—usually it was only when he was on the brink of sleep. In fact, he got a little huffy when it was brought up. He wasn’t a _baby_, he was _seven_. Only babies sucked their thumbs.

_Stop overthinking everything,_ a voice in the back of his mind said. _He’ll talk about it when he’s ready._

Pete retrieved one of the little cartons of apple juice from the minifridge, piercing the foil with the straw for Tyler and handing it to him. He took it wordlessly.

“What do we say?” Pete asked.

“Thank you,” Tyler said, not looking up from his colouring. Pete ruffled his hair and went back to the bed.

“Alright, pup, bath’s ready,” Trent said, emerging from the bathroom. He’d taken off his suit jacket and shoes, and he was holding Tyler’s pyjamas. “Let’s get you in there.”

“Already had a shower,” Tyler pouted.

“I know, but a bath’s going to help you feel better. Come on, now, there’s bubbles and everything.”

Tyler huffed a little, but put his crayon down and headed into the bathroom. Trent helped him undress and ushered him into the tub.

“Daddy?” Tyler said, looking up at him. That, like papa, was also new. Trent had always been _dad_. But considering everything that had happened, Trent had more or less been expecting things to be a bit different tonight, and he wasn’t about to have a go at Tyler for it.

“Hmm?”

“Can I have my bath crayons?”

“What’s the magic word?”

“Please?”

“There’s a good lad.” Trent produced Tyler’s bath crayons from the bag and handed them to him. “Be careful with them, alright, love? Don’t want the hotel cleaners having to wipe up stains.”

“I will, daddy,” Tyler said, and turned his attention to doodling. Trent began washing his hair—properly this time; he could tell Tyler hadn’t bothered with shampoo or conditioner in the showers at the arena—and let him continue humming to himself. The silence was comforting rather than awkward.

Once the bath was done, Trent towelled Tyler off and helped him into his pyjamas. He herded him back through to the bedroom, but instead of going back to his colouring book, he made a beeline for Pete and climbed into his lap.

“Hey there,” Pete said, a little surprised.

“Wanna watch cartoons.”

“Tyler…”

“Please,” Tyler mumbled, burying his face in Pete’s neck.

“Alright. What do you want to watch?”

“_Tarzan_? Please?” Tyler asked.

“Alright. Trent, you got your laptop?”

Trent set the laptop up on the bed in front of them. Pete grabbed Matty and rearranged himself and Tyler into a somewhat more comfortable position. His thumb was back in his mouth, and he was resting his head on Pete’s shoulder. Despite it all being new and unfamiliar, Pete couldn’t deny, it was nice. It felt _right_.

Once the food had arrived, Trent joined them on the bed. Tyler now nested between them, eating his pizza and watching the film, seeming quite content. Matty was tucked into the crook of his arm.

“How you feeling now, bab?” Trent asked, burying his nose in Tyler’s damp hair.

“Little bit better,” Tyler mumbled around a mouthful of pizza.

“We don’t talk with our mouths full, Tyler,” Pete reminded him gently. Tyler looked up at him apologetically and swallowed his food.

“Sorry, papa.”

“It’s alright, love. Just don’t do it again.”

He was asleep before the film was even finished. Pete tucked him in while Trent got rid of the empty pizza box, and once they had washed up and brushed their teeth, they climbed into bed on either side of Tyler. Pete switched the bedside lamp off, and before long, they were both asleep as well.

==

Pete woke up to an empty spot between him and Trent and the sound of the faucet running in the bathroom. He stretched and groaned and climbed out of bed, taking care not to disturb Trent, who was still sound asleep.

“Morning,” he said thickly, leaning against the doorframe. Tyler was shirtless, washing his face; he looked a little more put together than he had the night before.

“Morning. Did you sleep alright?”

“Yeah, fine. You?”

“Out like a light.”

“I know,” Pete grinned. “It was adorable.”

Tyler snorted. He headed back out to the bedroom, past Pete, and grabbed a fresh t-shirt from his bag. He was already in jeans.

“I need some air,” he remarked. “Fancy a walk?”

“Alright, if we can get food on the way,” Pete agreed. “And coffee.”

“You don’t want to eat breakfast here?”

“I don’t want to have to listen to Noam larging it to anyone who’ll listen.”

“Fair. Is there anywhere we can get something?”

“I think there’s a bakery near here,” Pete mused, grabbing some clothes for himself and dragging a brush through his hair. Trent was beginning to stir. “I’ll see you downstairs, yeah?”

Tyler left, closing the door behind him as quietly as possible. Pete gently shook Trent’s shoulder, and was rewarded with a grunt.

“Trent?” he said.

“Mmph,” Trent mumbled.

“Me and Tyler are going out. We’ll be back in about an hour, OK?”

“Mmph.” Trent affirmed. Pete smiled and grabbed his jacket from the chair.

==

Pete spied a few familiar faces milling around in the lobby. A handful gave them a friendly nod, but on the whole, they were largely quiet. Outside, it was a bright, clear morning, the sun already shining, but with enough of a morning chill hanging in the air to take the edge off of it.

They got coffee and pastries from the bakery and walked through the city centre towards Bute Park together. This early, and on a Sunday, it was mostly empty and silent; there were a handful of people around, but mostly, the only thing on the streets was the debris of the night before. Cardiff Castle loomed over the shopping centres and Victorian arcades, a silent stalwart in the middle of a normally busy city.

Once they reached the park, they sat down on a bench by the river. A lone duck floated serenely past, and Tyler threw it a handful of crumbs. Pete cleared his throat and shifted on the bench, which was still cold and very slightly damp with morning dew. He was dimly aware his jeans were probably getting wet, but he wasn’t that fussed about it.

“Can we talk about last night?” he asked.

“You mean the match?” Tyler replied, still watching the duck.

“You know what I mean.”

Tyler sighed and rubbed his face with one hand. His shoulders were tense, hunched up a little, and his jaw was set too firm. He gazed out across the river for a minute, and Pete was beginning to wonder if he’d actually heard him when he replied.

“I don’t know where it came from,” he said, very softly. “I’ve never felt that…that small before. I can’t tell you exactly how old I was, but it was a lot younger than usual.”

Pete nodded. “And the whole ‘papa’ thing?”

Tyler squeezed his eyes shut. Pete could see he was embarrassed, but he didn’t want to talk over him. He awkwardly rubbed his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I should’ve asked first, shouldn’t I? It just felt…I don’t know, _right_.”

“I don’t mind, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“If you don’t want to be called that—”

“I never said that, did I?”

“You never said you wanted it, either.”

Pete opened his mouth, then realised he had nothing constructive to say in response to that, and shut it again. Because Tyler was right. It had never even occurred to him to ask. Hell, Tyler had asked _him_ if he’d wanted a second dad, or if he wanted him to be just Tyler.

Guilt, peppered with shame, rose up in his throat, black and bitter. He tried to swallow it.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“You don’t have to be,” Tyler replied, reaching over and squeezing his hand. Pete looked at it for a long time. He licked his dry lips and tried to think of what to say. His lips began to form the beginning of _I love you_, but that didn’t seem appropriate, somehow.

“If you want me to be papa, I can be papa,” he said. “You know I’m happy to take care of you. Me and Trent both.”

“It’s a hell of a job.”

“Not to me,” Pete insisted, leaning in a little. “Not if it’s you.”

He squeezed Tyler’s hand back, and for the first time since before the match, Tyler smiled. Really smiled.

“I love you,” he said, and leaned over. His lips were soft and warm, and he smelled like hotel soap and fresh sheets.

In the trees overhead, a starling sang, and a gentle breeze rustled the flowers, and for a moment, Pete felt like everything was perfect.


End file.
